


right from the start you know i got you

by tomlinblows



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Coffee Shop, College AU, M/M, PWP, Professor!Zayn, Smut, Student!Liam, basically scattered ideas melted into a thing, kind of dom!zayn, nialls here too, porn with and without plot you decide, side larry - Freeform, teacher!Zayn, yes i understand this moves fast its because im a lazy shit, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 23:37:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4078219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomlinblows/pseuds/tomlinblows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m going to die,” Liam rushed through his head. “No, worse than death. I’m going to shrivel up into the size of a pebble and get chucked so far out into the ocean a whale swallows me in. Then, I’ll taste so bad that it’ll spit me out and land me on some socio-monkey island where I’ll get torn to bits and passed around like a hockey puck as they sink their diseased teeth into my flesh. I knocked into Zayn Malik and I am definitely going to die.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	right from the start you know i got you

**Author's Note:**

> Video Diary Week 4:
> 
> Zayn: "I was gonna go to Uni to do an English degree, and then become a teacher."

“You’re twenty two years old- you can make your own coffee. I’m not being late on my first day of class because you stayed out until three in the morning and can’t press a couple of buttons.”

 

Liam sneered as he threw his arms through his jacket sleeves and chucked his ratty old bag over his shoulder. Louis rolled his eyes and Liam smoothed his hair over in the mirror on the wall, biting back a smolder. 

 

“You look displeasing and unprofessional as ever, Li. Calm down. You’re gonna be fine.” 

 

“I love having such an encouraging best friend.” Liam muttered, turning around and taking a bite out of the toast between Lou’s fingers. His hand recoiled, reaching out to slap Liam in the ear but the clumsy English major was too fast. 

 

“That’s a dashing new shirt. Would be a shame if someone were to get... jelly on it.” Louis menaced. 

 

Liam straightened himself out and jogged over to the door, making sure he had all his things in order and tucked away securely. It wasn’t a big deal or anything- just the most important class he’d take all year. It was impossible to get into in the first place. It was only AP Literature, and a short course of a few months, but the professor was supposed to be one of the absolute best in the entire country. Zayn Malik; one of the most intimidating men on campus. Not to mention, withheld the highest percentage of most succeeding students. Louis grew up with a kid who’s sister had Malik, and now she’s got three books published and honorary credits from Stephen King himself. _So, no big deal._

 

“I’ll be back in a few hours. Try not to burn anything down while I’m gone.” 

 

“Knock ‘em dead, Payno!” Louis’ voice bounced off the walls of the hallway as Liam darted down the stairs and onto the crisp streets of New York. He decided not to bother with the Subway and risk getting some strange substance on his pants again, so he flagged down a cab and crawled in. 

 

After about five minutes of driving he pulled out his phone and checked his many unread messages. Liam wasn’t a good texter, and lately, not a good friend. The boy had his head crammed so far up the ass cracks of those textbooks hardly anyone but Louis ever saw him; (and that was only when he would be dragged out to watch Big Brother on their stained green couch every night. Liam didn’t like the show that much, and he reckoned neither did Louis, but if you bottle up all your emotions like he does, you start to run out of reasons to lay your head in Liam’s lap like they did when they were kids trying to protect each other.)

 

Liam couldn’t complain though. Harry could run his hands throughout Louis’ fringe all he wanted while they lounged around, but no one had the magic touch quite like Liam did. Only a big brother could give Louis that; which is exactly why Louis would somehow always manage to burrow his way back between Liam’s crossed legs and munch on stale Cheetos each night, even if it meant pretending his smile came from some dumb reality TV show. But they don’t talk about that. 

 

_ “Niall: Comin out tonight ?”  _

 

_ “Liam: Have to study mate, sorryyyy” _

 

_ “Niall: Oh yeah , big important day for Payno ! Call me after class”  _

 

_ “Liam: Just got here. Laters mate” _

 

_ “Niall: Scout me out some hotties hahaha” _

 

Liam locked his phone and shoved it somewhere in his bag before paying the driver and nearly falling out of the car. It took him ten minutes to find the right building between checking his watch every two seconds and looking himself over in every window he passed to make sure he still looked clean-cut and presentable. He reached the classroom with three minutes to spare and was about to let out his big sigh of relief when he heard the crash of a coffee thermos wobble around his feet. Liam bent over and grabbed it quick, keeping his eyes glued to the ground when he stood up, feeling what he had been trying all morning to stay away from. Embarrassment. 

 

“I am so sorry, oh my god, I’m sorry,” he repeated, twiddling his fingers against his thigh and reaching over to slide his bag further up his shoulder. 

 

“Are you in this class?” The voice asked. 

 

“Y-yeah.” Liam replied, swiping his eyes up to meet the raven haired coffee thermos’ owners. His breath immediately got caught in his throat, causing him to cough a little.

 

“I’m so sorry for running into you,” he said again. The man bit his lip for a moment before letting a small smile surface. Liam’s eyes went wide. 

 

“Don’t be. That’s what they make the lid for.” He said, tapping his index finger on the lid of the cup. Liam relaxed into a small laugh, folding his hands nervously around his stomach. The bell rang causing him to jump, looking around the hallway at scattering kids then back at the man, who had his eyes still firmly locked on Liam.

 

“We have to get to class,” he stated nervously, offering a closed-mouth smile. He felt pressured to speak; he wanted to say something impressive and unlock the man’s smile. Liam bet that it was lovely.

 

“I am.” 

 

Liam’s smile faltered, glancing into the classroom then back at the rock planted in front of him. 

 

“Oh- guess we’re classmates then. Maybe we’ll find a seat together.” Liam said in a tiny voice. He watched the man’s shoulders move up and down as he pushed out a short breathy laugh, then returned to his hard face. He was so intense looking. Intimidating. Confident.

 

Before Liam could make a move towards the class, the man stepped out and opened the door for him, waiting for Liam to walk. His eyes dropped back to the floor as he scurried past him and hurriedly slid into the nearest seat. He put his bag down and pulled out his supplies, turning his head and expecting to see the man in the desk next to him. But it was still empty. 

 

“Good morning class, I hope everyone made it here safely. And if you didn’t, I hope you’re not getting any blood on my desks.” 

 

The class collectively chuckled, and Liam’s stomach did a flip. His bones felt electric. His head shot towards the front of the class, and _fuck._

 

He had ran into none other than Professor Zayn Malik’s coffee. 

 

“I’m going to spend about twenty minutes giving you a brief introductory to this class and what will be expected of each and everyone one of you, and what happens if you can not or do not reach my expectations. I advise you to take notes, as these rules will not be explained to you again.” 

 

Liam felt like he had bricks weighing inside of him as he listened to him speak. His hands twitched as he clicked his pen and turned to a clean page in his notebook. _This is it. He’s going to be sick._  

 

_“I’m going to die,”_ Liam rushed through his head. _“No, worse than death. I’m going to shrivel up into the size of a pebble and get chucked so far out into the ocean a whale swallows me in. Then, I’ll taste so bad that it’ll spit me out and land me on some socio-monkey island where I’ll get torn to bits and passed around like a hockey puck as they sink their diseased teeth into my flesh. I knocked into Zayn Malik and I am definitely going to die.”_

 

Zayn wandered around the room as he gave his presentation, every now and then staring up at Liam while people scribbled their notes, making him advert his eyes to his paper and try to remember what it’s like to push air out normally. It’s a miracle he made it through three hours of class without hyperventilating. Liam’s never had a problem with concentrating before; or breathing. He’s been quite good at both the past nineteen years of his life. 

 

Before he knew it, everyone started shuffling towards the door and Liam realized class was over. He must’ve not heard the bell; or the end of the lesson. Shit- the notes. He only had three rules down and truth be told, his hand shook so bad he could barely make them out as English. He looked around for someone to ask, but they were all gone. He jumped in his seat.

 

“I don’t put glue on my seats for a reason, Liam.” Zayn said, pulling him out of his thoughts once again. Liam flushed and shoved all his things into his bag and threw it over his shoulder, his knuckles white around the strap. He stood up and sauntered over to Zayn’s desk, watching him pack up his things. He watched his hands move nimbly, and remembered his index finger tapping against his thermos. Like him, his hands were firm. They were powerful. Rough around the edges.  

 

“How do you know my name?” Liam asked. 

 

“You’re taking my class,” Zayn raised his eyebrows. Liam looked away, chewing on his lower lip. “My mug told me to tell you that there’s no hard feelings, if that’s what you’re here for.” 

 

“N-no, I’m not. I um... I didn’t get a lot of the notes-”

 

“Rule number three. I am not responsible for what you do or do not copy. It’s your job to keep a quick hand.”

 

“I know- I do, I was just having wicked hand cramps and you...”

 

Liam trailed off and Zayn zipped his bag up slowly. Liam’s eyes followed the trace Zayn’s fingers left and finally met his eyes again when Zayn spoke. Liam wondered why he was so breathless. There was plenty of air in the room, but he felt like he couldn’t get enough. It was the way Zayn was looking at him; like he was in on a joke Liam wasn’t.

 

“I what?” Zayn’s voice was hard. He placed his palms flat on the table to lean against it and get closer to where Liam’s face was. Liam’s hands squeezed his bag tighter and he scurried back a little. If he didn’t, he was afraid he’d faint altogether. 

 

“You were just going too fast is all.” He squeezed out in a voice so quiet he wasn’t sure Zayn even heard him. 

 

“I’m sorry that you can’t keep up with me or my high level students,” Zayn said with a sharp look in his eyes and a smug grimace tugging at the corners of his lips that flattened out when he spoke again. “But that’s just the way this class works. You’ve known me for three hours and you have managed to spill my coffee, knock into me, make us both late and fail to copy my rules. And now I should give you notes?” 

 

Liam was on fire. His palms were drenched and he was blinking too much and too fast, and his toes wouldn’t stop moving in his shoes. He forgot how to speak, but he knew how to move, and made a beeline for the door. 

 

He couldn’t make it home any faster in his life. On his way through the front door, he fumbled over the mat and watched as his bag slid across the floor and into the kitchen. 

 

“Have you fallen for me, Liam?” Louis said perkily, walking over to Liam to help him up. Once he gained his footing, he fetched his bag and ran to his room, collapsing on the soft duvet of his bed without even kicking off his shoes. 

 

His chest heaved and his eyelids burned and all he could think of was how even Zayn’s hands were intimidating. Out of nineteen years of career paving tests, dozens of bullies, two college rejection letters and no self-confidence, he never would’ve guessed it would be a pair of fucking hands that would take him down. 

 

 

 

Hours later, when Liam was fidgeting around on his bed scrolling through Twitter and editing some writing he’s been working on, Niall called. Liam debated answering. If he had to endure another fifteen minute conversation about Niall’s weird obsession with Derby he might just block his number. 

 

“Timberlake is coming into town next month,” Niall said excitedly after Liam cautiously swiped the screen to answer. Liam could literally hear him smiling, and couldn’t stop himself from as well.

 

“Really? Call Harry.”

 

“You don’t think Louis’ already done that? Harold’s got us hooked up with some wicked seats, mate!” Niall kept on chattering like the energizer bunny and Liam’s laptop dinged. He opened his email and clicked on the message, his stomach clenching at the address. 

 

_ (Prof. Zayn Malik:  _

 

_ I’ve attached a file of the notes that you failed to mark down. Memorize my rules. You’ve already broken several.  _

 

_ You’re welcome.) _

 

Liam double clicked the powerpoint and watched it fill the screen. Twenty four slides of rules and basic information about the course. He stumbled across the room and dug his pen and paper out of his bag before marching back over to his bed. 

 

“...It’s like you’re my mirror, woah,” Liam pressed his ear against the phone and interrupted Niall’s ear-drum shattering belting he’d tuned out, not totally on accident. 

 

“Ni, I have some notes I need to study. Text you tomorrow.”

 

“You’re no fun anym-”

 

Liam tapped the red button and flung his phone somewhere on his bed. He pulled his laptop closer to his body and hit reply.

 

_ “Liam Payne: _

 

_ Thank you for the notes. Won’t happen again.” _

 

The swooping sound of a sent message filled his ears while he began copying the first slide. Halfway through the first sentence his laptop dinged again. 

 

_ (Prof. Zayn Malik: _

 

_ Disobey my rules again and punishment is in order. See you in class, Liam. I’ll save you a seat.)  _

 

Liam nearly bit right through the cap of his pen. _Punishment?_

 

That’s it, he thought. He shook his head and focused on the notes for once, turning up Timberlake so loud that not another fucking ding could be heard. 

 

_

 

 

Wednesday afternoon Liam could barely pay attention in his seat. He read over sentences almost twenty times and still couldn’t make the words stick in his brain. He had no troubles copying it all down though, and hoped to understand it better later. The class wasn’t all that hard as everyone had made it seem. Malik seemed tough as hell, Liam thought, but the actual work wasn’t challenging yet. 

 

“Not only will we be studying the classics of literature,” Zayn spoke clearly to the class. “But we will also be asking some of the most brain-wracking questions to ever cross your minds. The goal is to make you think; discover new areas of your brain, and hopefully, transform them into books.”

 

Liam nodded even though Zayn wasn’t speaking directly to him. It was a school habit he picked up somewhere along the way.

 

“Now, keep your groans at a dull roar as I assign you each an author. You’re going to write me a five page paper on how this author has influenced you, and only you. Format specifics will be listed on my website later this evening. I’ve chosen each writer wisely, so don’t worry about being stuck with Anne Frank or any more high school level authors you’ve gone on about for the past four years.”

 

The class laughed though Zayn wasn’t joking. 

 

“Professor Malik,” a girl squeaked out from the first row, tugging on the sleeve of her blue sweater and obnoxiously smoothing out her perfect ponytail. She wasn’t the only girl in the class like that; it seemed that they all wanted to impress Zayn. Liam chuckled to himself. A man like that has got to be off the market; and especially wouldn’t be looking for some perfectionist Daddy issued English student. Or maybe he was. Maybe that’s the very reason he pursued this career at all. Liam wouldn’t know, that’s for damn sure. 

 

“Yes?” Zayn took long strides over to her and locked his hands behind his back while he awaited her question. He looked like he was ready to pounce on a piece of vulnerable prey. Liam swallowed hard. 

 

“If you’ve only known us for a week, how do you know what writers would best suit us?” 

 

Her voice was high and purposely innocent and Liam rolled his eyes. Her question did have a point, he had to admit. 

 

“It’s my job. Besides, I read your application essays. It’s Claire, correct?”

 

“Yes.” She replied, dragging out a one syllable word into eternity. 

 

“I remember yours was a bit all over the place. I could suspect your nervousness without even knowing you, and your vocabulary was the least bit impressive from what you applied.”

 

Claire’s cheeks looked like they had been set on fire. Liam snorted, quickly covering his face when a group of her friends glared over at him.

 

“Then why did you choose me,” she snapped. His expression turned to hard stone, and Liam watched his jaw clench tightly. 

 

“Because you wrote like a young Judy Blume, which I found admirable considering you’re probably not much of a fan. If you’re unhappy with my choosing’s I will be more than happy to remove you from my roster, Mrs. Smith.” Zayn explained, his head cocked to the side in a fake understanding manner.

 

“I’m very grateful to be in this class. Thank you.” She straightened herself up and shot a death glance- that made even Liam scared- to the snickering boys behind her. He clicked his pen. 

 

_ “-stay away from claire, seems like psycho bitch” _

 

Liam laughed to himself and smiled so widely down at his paper that his eyes disappeared. 

 

“Liam Payne.” 

 

Liam’s grin dropped in less than a second when he heard Zayn’s voice. He picked up his gaze and met them with a pair of eyes like cinnamon and warm caramel topping. Zayn’s expression was unreadable as always, but he still seemed tense since his hands were gripping onto his podium. 

 

“Mark Twain.” 

 

Liam’s brows furrowed; he was hardly a fan. His hand shot up, making sure Zayn still had his attention on him. 

 

“What if we don’t-”

 

“Emily Novik, you’ve got Charlotte Brontë.”

 

Liam sunk in his chair as Zayn called off the rest of the names. He had no right to be so rude to other students because one has a sharp mouth and horny intentions. 

 

“This is ridiculous, this guy can’t know anything about us,” Liam whispered to the girl next to him, who shrugged. “I mean Mark Twain? There’s no fuc-” 

 

“Payne. My desk.”

 

The sound of the bell and shuffling feet almost gave Liam a migraine on top of the words pin-balling off the walls of his skull. He can’t possibly be in trouble again, he thinks. It’s just two classes in, and he’s really done nothing wrong. Liam went 12 years without even one detention and it wasn’t even hard to not get one. He just doesn’t get in trouble; it’s not him. And he’s certainly not going to change his motives now. 

 

His feet felt like slippery cinder blocks between the lead in his blood and the sweat building up in his shoes by the time he reached Zayn’s desk. The room was empty and he could actually hear the silence. 

 

“You replied to my email which means you got the notes, and I imagine you studied them.” 

 

“O-of course, I can show you if-”

 

“Which also means you know the rules. So, pop quiz! Tell me rule number five.”

 

Liam thought for a moment.

 

“If I am going to come to class unprepared, don’t bother to come at all.”

 

“Very good. Number three.”

 

“You are not responsible for what I do or do not copy. It’s my job to keep a quick hand.”

 

“I’m glad you are familiar with that one now. So it really baffles my mind as to why you didn’t familiarize yourself with number seven?”

 

Liam wiped his palms on his jeans and felt small. Zayn spoke forcefully. He had so much strength to him. Liam was frightened, almost. He swiped his tongue over his dry lips and watched Zayn step closer to him so they were face to face. 

 

“Tell me rule seven, Liam. All of it.”

 

“There is to be no talking amongst ourselves while a lesson is in progress as you do not allow it. If I feel the intense need to chat I may do so in another class for the rest of the year.” Liam repeated in a low voice, staring down at his shoes to avoid Zayn’s expression. 

 

“What did I tell you, Mr. Payne?” Zayn breathed out, tracing a circle around Liam with his steps. Liam’s breath caught in his throat and he coughed. “I believe a punishment was promised.” 

 

Zayn’s hands curved around Liam’s prominent hip bones and he pulled him back stiffly. Liam felt Zayn’s hard-on pressed tightly against the back of his thigh and he gasped. He attempted to turn his head towards Zayn’s, but it was being grasped between two fingers and held it in place towards the chalkboard. 

  
_“Why can’t you just follow the rules, Liam?”_ Zayn hissed against the soft skin of Liam’s neck. Liam moaned a little, which took him by surprise because he’s never done that before. He thought it sounded hot though, and guessed Zayn did as well, because he dragged his lower lip across Liam’s collarbones. He didn’t kiss them, just slid his lips up his neck and over his Adam’s apple like a toy car on a track. When he reached Liam’s lips he pulled away, leaving Liam a rock-hard whimpering puppy. He wanted Zayn’s lips on his. Zayn smirked and slid a hand down Liam’s chest stopping right above his zipper, just to watch Liam’s mouth fall open and his eyes squeeze shut in a mixture of frustration and pure bliss. 

 

“I want you right here in the middle of my classroom,” Zayn insisted, wrapping his hand around Liam’s leg like a snake and smacking his ass. Liam lurched forward and Zayn pulled him back. “I don’t want you going anywhere.”

 

Liam cried out again at the sound of Zayn’s silky voice in his ear and Zayn curled his lips up in a pleased smile. 

 

“Why won’t you kiss me already,” Liam whined. 

 

“I don’t kiss.”

 

“Then what do you do?” He gulped, hungry with need. 

 

Liam held the bite down on his bottom lip and Zayn released the boy’s body, Liam nearly falling over from the sudden snap back to reality. 

 

“I have a meeting I need to get to.” 

 

Liam stood frozen in time, panting and harder than he’s ever been in his life, and watched the biggest mystery he’s ever laid eyes on slip his arms through his coat and slide his satchel over his shoulder. 

 

“You’re just going to leave me here like this? You’re not even going to tell me what the hell just happened?”

 

“I’m not leaving you anywhere. You’re going to go home and I’m going to see you in class.” 

 

“Zayn!” Liam fumed, stomping up to him and grabbing his arm to turn him around. Zayn threw him off like he was a rabid dog, and Liam stumbled back a few steps. 

 

“You call me Professor Malik or nothing else while we’re in here, do you understand Mr. Payne?”

 

“Don’t talk to me like I’m just another student right now!”

 

“You are a student, Liam!” 

 

“After that? Look, I get if this is against the rules but don’t tell me you didn’t feel what I-”

 

“I don’t get crushes. I don’t ‘like’ people. I exercise control, and I like to give people pleasure if they follow my rules. I bet you’d look real pretty coming for me, wouldn’t you, love?”

 

Liam felt _used._ He pulled in a jagged breath and stepped away from Zayn, bouncing back on one foot before darting out the classroom doors for the second time; his eyes burning and his lungs pounding until he was sure he was too far to think about something stupid like turning back. 

 

 

-

 

 

Liam was nearly hiding a steam engine inside of his bathroom when he got home that evening after hitting the gym. He wasn’t big on working out unless he had to clear his head or desperately needed to pass time. He liked the adrenaline rush, and even if the damned place was thirty bucks a month- hundreds of shirtless guys in sweaty shorts? Sign him up. 

 

He stepped under the water and his back immediately arched. Liam turned around and brought his hands up to his face, wetting his hair and feeling the heat spray down his back until welts formed. Nothing felt better to him than this. It was his little paradise at the end of the day; blazing hot water shooting against his shoulders and neck, setting him afire. He dragged his hands up over his chin and across his face, darting through his hair before retracing his steps. 

 

Just when he reached out for his bar of soap, someone knocked on the front door. 

 

“Shit,” Liam hissed under his breath, slamming the shower knob so hard against the wall he heard a crack when the water ceased. He threw his towel around his waist and skidded to the door, sliding it open and avoiding eye contact with whomever he would meet. 

 

“I’m sorry I was in the middle of a-”

 

“Shower? Unless you just like to walk around soaking and towel-clad, which I could potentially be into.” 

 

Liam’s eyes shot up and stared into the empty doorway. His body shot around and he felt his head start pounding with fear. His shoulders began to recline when he realized it was none other than

 

“Zayn,” Liam whispered, looking around. “What are you doing here?”

 

Zayn flashed his familiar almost-smile and watched Liam’s eyes try to look anywhere but into Zayn’s. Liam would never quite be strong enough to dig his nails into the slippery edge of dignity cliff and stop himself from falling helplessly. And Zayn would never be strong enough to stop completely and utterly fucking loving it.

 

“Sorry. It was unlocked.”

 

“You can’t just...I don’t. _You can’t just walk in.”_

 

Zayn’s firm posture stepped passed him as he peeled off his coat, dropping it on to the rack near the door and straightening his collar. Liam turned around, biting his lip. He giggled and tried to compose himself as Zayn cocked his head, smirking as he looked Liam’s wet body up and down.

 

“Excuse me,” Liam spoke. “I’m gonna go put on some clothes now.” 

 

His footsteps out of the room were calm and collected until he was sure he was out of Zayn’s vantage point, before he darted into his room and closed the door. Phone. His first thought was to call Louis and tell him to come home as fast as he could to create a diversion and get Zayn to leave. He rummaged through his pants until he swiped out his phone and dialed Lou, who answered on fourth ring. 

 

“Come home now.” Liam breathed frantically. 

 

“What? I can’t, I’m at dinner with Harry’s family- it’s his birthday. Thanks for calling you inconsiderate bastard. Somebody doesn’t read the notes on the fridge!”

 

“Well you have to leave.”

 

“Why? Liam, what’s going on-”

 

“He’s here, Louis, like in the house.”

 

“Who? That professor guy?”

 

“I need you to come home and make up some story so he’ll leave.” Liam covered his mouth over the receiver and turned his back to the door, his towel falling to the floor. 

 

“I’m sorry Li. I have to be here. Just hide out in your room till morning and I’ll be home then.”

 

“I don’t need your jokes right now,” Liam fumed, reaching his pinky over to bite on the nail as he paced like a confused naked idiot. 

 

“And I don’t need your pussy attitude.” 

 

Liam heard Harry’s drunk slurs enter the conversation and Louis laugh in that flirty high-pitched laugh he used on the pizza guy to get free coupons. Liam rolled his eyes and stomped his foot in anger; he needed help. Louis muttered some half-assed good luck speech and clicked end call, the monotone of the static drowning out Liam’s thoughts as he tossed his phone onto his bed. 

 

“I need to talk to you.” Zayn opened the door. 

 

Liam screamed and stood stone in shock. Zayn’s eyes set onto his body like glue, and time didn’t feel real. He pulled at the ground until he tightly grasped his towel and pulled it around his waist; flushed cheeks and wide eyes. Liam’s chest bumped like a dryer machine with shoes in it and he felt like he was melting to the ground drip by drip. Nothing could be worse than this, he thought. And all the while, Zayn just stood there, with a tight little smirk and an unbreakable stare; the Zayn Malik usual. 

 

“You’re making this so much harder, you know.” 

 

Liam had a feeling Zayn wasn’t just talking about his conversation plans. He was naked and Zayn was his professor. And he was _naked._ Oh god- _Zayn saw him naked._

 

“What do you want, Zayn?” Liam tried sounding serious, but Zayn could see right through him and he knew it. He felt it. 

 

“I told you. We need to talk.”

 

“About what? You breaking into my house like some second-degree stalker, because there doesn’t need to be a conversation if you just leave.”

 

“You don’t want me to do that,” Zayn spoke calmly. “And neither do I.”

 

Liam squeezed his fingers around the knot in the towel and yearned for a glass of water. The scorching steam from the bathroom was pouring into his room inch by inch and growing sweat around Liam’s neck like moss. Zayn took a few steps closer to Liam but halted when the nude boy recoiled. 

 

“You don’t know what I want.” Liam cracked out in a voice slightly above a whisper. It was a direct shot at Zayn, but a hit and miss. Zayn’s expression changed like a chameleon. Liam watched him squeeze his hands at the fabric on his thighs and lower himself to sit on the bed. Zayn dragged his eyes off Liam and focused on the carpet in front of him, flattening his palms against the sheets on either side of him. Liam seemed fascinated at the sight of Zayn’s fingers curling around the edge of the mattress and wondered if he was staring the same way Zayn did. 

 

“I know what you wanted earlier and so did you.”

 

“Stop maneuvering your way into my head, Zayn! You decided what you wanted earlier too, which wasn’t me.” Liam fumbled over his words in a frenzy. 

 

“Don’t do that,” Zayn warned, jumping to his feet and balling up his fists when he fronted the flustered brown-eyed boy shivering in front of him. 

 

“Do what?” Liam asked.

 

“Bite your lip... leave your hair wet so the water drips down your cheeks and onto your chest. Stare at me with that innocent look in your eyes whenever I speak to you. Don’t do any of it.” 

 

Liam drooped his head and traced the outline of his toes before trapping his eyes inside of Zayn’s, losing all sight of himself and surrendering. 

 

“And what if I do?” 

 

It took Zayn 3 steps to shove his mouth hastily against Liam’s, grinding their lips together like the world was gonna end. Liam’s previously secure towel was briskly tugged to the ground, leaving him bare for Zayn again. He reached his hands down to cover himself but Zayn was quick to catch them and lock their fingers together, bringing them above Liam’s head and holding them there. Their tongues played war until Liam tilted his head up for air and Zayn latched onto his neck, rapidly finding his way down his stomach and right above Liam’s-

 

_“Zayn,”_ he squeaked. “I-I’ve, I’ve never-”

 

“Tell me I was right.”

 

“What?”

 

“You want this?” Liam’s knees wobbled at the sensation of Zayn’s breath so close to him, and pulled his lower lip between his teeth. Zayn slapped a hand against his ass, spanking it pink. Liam unintentionally bucked his hips, sending him into Zayn’s yearning mouth. Liam’s ears were ringing and all he thought he could hear was his heart beating and the half-moan half-scream he let out at the sudden contact. 

 

“Tell me Liam, or I’ll stop.” Zayn demanded, pulling away. Liam whimpered and wrung his head into the crevice of his shoulder, panting. 

 

“I want this.” 

 

Zayn grinned, sucking Liam back in and swirling his tongue in ways Liam didn’t even know a muscle could move. His eyes rolled back and he wasn’t even ashamed when he finished in a mere twenty seconds. Liam couldn’t feel anything other than his mushy limbs and throbbing cock slip out of Zayn’s mouth. His knees began sliding and Zayn scooped him up into his arms and placed him beneath his blankets, watching Liam’s eyelids open and close. Each time they opened he saw Zayn smiling down at him, and wished he could keep them awake forever. 

 

“Get some rest, Liam. I’ll see you in class.” 

 

“Wait,” Liam croaked. His vision was fuzzy but he could groggily make out the sharp turn of Zayn’s back, and snorted while he giggled. “Lock the door on your way out. I don’t need anyone else breaking into my apartment to give me a blow-job.”

 

Zayn belly laughed, and Liam waited for him to kiss him, even just on the forehead- but he didn’t. He straightened his cuffs, smoothed over his pants, and turned towards the door.

 

_

 

 

Empty streets on this side of town were nearly impossible to find on everyother Friday night except this one, Liam thought to himself. He made the brave mistake of arriving to the posh restaurant early, and shuttered under the friendly graze on his shoulder. He wishes he was back home; curled up with Louis and commenting on the terrible episode of Seinfeld that was aired while he studied. Neither of them liked Seinfeld, but it was just one of those things they did. 

 

“Mr. Payne, is it?” A chipper man with a symmetrical smile but a cloudy pair of blue eyes approached Liam, who nodded. 

 

“Guilty as charged,” he replied. 

 

“Mr. Malik is already inside. I’ll escort you to his table.” Liam followed behind his steps like a shadow. The lighting was dimmer than he imagined a high class place having; you’d think an expensive restaurant could afford some more light bulbs to put in their oversized chandeliers. 

 

“And here you are Mr. Payne,” The man’s hand extended out towards the booth, as if Liam needed guidance to a seat three inches in front of him. He smiled graciously and bit back a laugh as he slid in across from Zayn. The man took their drink orders, Liam a water and Zayn a wine Liam couldn’t pronounce if he tried, and a basket of pumpernickel bread made it’s way onto the table. 

 

“This place is really fancy.” Liam remarked, keeping his hands tangled in his lap and dragging his eyes around the walls, spending a few seconds at each piece of art until he came out around to the last... the cocky smile sitting in front of him. 

 

“I come here all the time. The food is spectacular, and I used to teach with the Head Chef.” 

 

“English?” Liam asked. The waiter set their drinks down before vanishing back into the darkness between tables.

 

“He taught culinary.” Zayn smirked, and Liam looked down. 

 

“Right,” he pushed out. “Thank you for taking me here.”

 

“You deserved it. You had the best paper in that whole class.” Zayn delicately placed his fingers around his glass, brining it up to his lips and taking small sips. Liam watched intently and raised his eyebrows, grinning like an idiot. 

 

“So you take all your best students on dates?” 

 

Zayn’s eye twitched at the word date but he didn’t tense up like Liam thought he would have. Maybe he wasn’t the unbreakable statue he was in the classroom. 

 

“No. I would be much more of a busy guy than I like to be if I did that.” 

 

“You’re like, the English professor of English professors. There’s no way you’re not busy all the time.” Liam gawked, ripping into a piece of bread and buttering it. 

 

“I keep work separate from my home life.” Zayn replied. 

 

“What do you do then? Besides fuck, and seduce your students.” Liam laughed, taking a drink from his water. Zayn regained control of his smile, settling it.  

 

“I pursue multiple physical activities, and I read, of course.”

 

“You know, for an English teacher, you’re quite a man of few words.”

 

Zayn smiled. Genuinely, really smiled, and for a second Liam didn’t see him as intense, or scary, or tough. He was radiant, and he was beautiful. 

 

“What may you two be having tonight, Mr. Malik?” Zayn rolled the order off his tongue and Liam couldn’t recall him even glancing at a menu. The bald man collected the bread and abandoned the table faster than a wildfire, leaving Liam and Zayn to make out each others faces in the vast shade that surrounded them. 

 

“Tell me about your roommate.” Zayn requested, making Liam blush. 

 

“Louis? He’s my best friend- and I really didn’t have a choice about living with him. That’s how our whole friendship works; Louis says and Liam does. It’s good, though. It’s good. He’s my brother, and I really wouldn’t be here without him.”

 

“I’m glad you have somebody who cares so much about you. What does Louis study?”

 

“Oh, he’s kind of in and out of school. One day he wants to be a physicist, the next he wants to invent a remote control that changes channels based on your mood, like those mood rings. If that ever happens, our apartment will be porn central the minute he gets his hands on one.” 

 

They laughed and Liam watched Zayn’s nose scrunch up. His chest felt warm all of a sudden, but he brushed it off. Zayn spoke again. 

 

“He sounds like quite the lad.” 

 

“Yeah, gotta love ‘em. After this year we’ll probably move to Chicago.”

 

“What?” The crinkles around Zayn’s eyes hardened like clay and his seasons changed again, his leaves turning him back to scary, intense Mr. Malik. 

 

“Well we’re not making much money here, and Louis’ uncle just passed and left his record store in his name-”

 

“But why do you have to go with him?”

 

“I can’t really pay the whole rent if he goes and I wouldn’t have anybody here. I don’t mind though, Chicago is nice. And it’s a job, so.” 

 

“But the year ends in just over three months,” Zayn added. “You can’t go.”

 

Liam chuckled, perking an eyebrow at Zayn. 

 

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna drop your class or anything. I’ll finish about two days before we’d go. It works out perfectly.”

 

“No it doesn’t. You can’t just follow this ‘Louis’ around like some fucking groupie, Liam. You’re brighter than that.”

 

“That’s not how it is, Zayn. If I want to go, I’m gonna go. You don’t have a say. And don’t talk about Louis like that, _ever_.”

 

“Well I should have a say.” Zayn remarked, a pissed off squint shadowing his eyes. 

 

“As far as I know, you’re not my boyfriend. Can we just drop the subject, please?”

 

“I need you to stay.” 

 

“I won’t have any reason to, Zayn.” 

 

“You worked hard to get into this school, you should take more than just one year of classes. You haven’t had real Brooklyn pizza, or been to the Statue of Liberty. You haven’t even had sex on New Years in Manhattan. There’s still so many sunsets you haven’t seen.”

 

“I’ll pass on the Kodak moments, thanks. Nothing’s finalized anyways, so calm down. I don’t see why it matters so much to you.” 

 

“Because it does!” Zayn huffed, his fist tight around his fork as the waiter scurried over with their meals. Liam pinned the topic on the wall for a moment, thanking the server and poking his fork around his plate. Zayn sighed and Liam felt the dust settling around them, opening his mouth again to speak. 

 

“Because why?” He asked, gently. 

 

A pause. 

 

“Just ‘cause.”

 

_

 

The next morning was nothing out of the ordinary; lying through his teeth when Louis asked how his night went, following him out for coffee, pretending to be surprised when Niall showed up, though he always showed up. Another thing they don't talk about. 

 

Harry was working barista today, but without the brown-stained blue apron you really couldn't tell. It’s a good thing- a really, _really_ good thing, that this place stands for the ‘walked out of bed and got lost on my way to the bathroom and ended up here’ look, because Harry would be so screwed otherwise. His mop head was once brushed over today, which was a low even for him- and the corners of his mouth still carried toothpaste residue. His wrinkly, once upon a time white t-shirt read _Orgasm Donor_ and his pants hung off him like a quilt; that was for Louis, though. Still no customer could complain, because as poorly put together as Harry was, he never lacked the ability to make every act he did a kind one with a giant smile on his unshaven face. 

 

“Are you sure you don’t want anything, Li? It’s on me. Literally.” Harry winked. Liam laughed. Louis smiled fondly at both of them, and Niall, well- Niall was asleep. 

 

“I’m good H, thanks. I think he could use something strong, if you will.”

 

“Have you finally partied yourself to death, mate?” Louis nudged Niall awake, sending him into an incoherent frenzy of Irish and beer breath. 

 

“One of us has to! Lord knows you mothers don’t come out anymore, with your boyfriend’s and your studying.”

 

“I am deeply sorry that Liam’s perseverance to succeed in life and Harry and I’s flourishing relationship is getting in the way of your one-way ticket to alcoholism, Niall. What shit lads we are!” Louis pressed a firm hand on his shoulder and tightened his mouth into a line, shaking his head as Harry and Liam bursted with laughter. 

 

“Up yours, Tomlinson.”

 

_“Better not,”_ Harry interrupted, turning around from his coffee grinding to make eyes at the bloodshot blonde. He slid him his drink, which Niall took soft sips from as Louis chatted away about the new Mumford and Sons album. Liam listened in, agreeing that it is in fact better than expected, until his phone buzzed feverishly in his hoodie pocket. He pulled it out, frazzled over who would be calling this early in the morning when he was already with the first names that came to mind. 

 

“Hello?” He breathed into the receiver. 

 

“You’re not home.” 

 

Liam rolled his eyes. Of course it was him. It’s always him. 

 

“Yes Zayn, I know. I actually don’t spend every minute of my life in my house.”

 

“Had me fooled!” Niall chirped at him, making Liam shove him off his stool and onto the ground, wandering away from the counter to avoid Louis’ following antics. 

 

“Who was that? Who are you with?”

 

“My friends. Is something wrong?” 

 

“I came to see you and you’re not here.” Liam scoffed. 

 

“At eight in the morning on a Sunday? May I ask what’s so important?”

 

“Breakfast. I thought we’d get some.”

 

“We just got dinner. You’re awful clingy,” Liam joked, going over Zayn’s head as usual. 

 

“I know. I have an… odd sense to be with you at all times. I don’t quite understand it myself.”

 

Liam’s throat grew dry and he regretted passing Harry up on that drink earlier. 

 

“Where are you?” Zayn asked.

 

“I can’t see you right now. I’m with my friends.”

 

“Not good enough. Tell me where you are or-”

 

“Or what, Zayn? You’ll punish me like last time?” Liam knew it wasn't smart to mock him, punishment on the line or not. He was still his professor, and could do a number of things to his career. Liam really should watch who he’s talking to, no matter where they put their mouth on him. 

 

“I’m going to text you my address and you’re going to meet me there tonight at seven. Do we have an understanding, Liam?”

 

Every bone in Liam’s body screamed _no, no, no_ but the only words coming out of his mouth were _“yes, Zayn”_ and the piercing noise of the dial tone dragged his mind out to a very fuzzy sea of memories from their last sexual encounter. 

 

“P Town,” Louis called out from across the shop. “’s everything alright?”

 

Liam shuffled back over to his gang of smelly college students that everybody in the joint was frowning at in utmost annoyance and slid into the stool next to Niall. 

 

“Yeah, it was just my sister.”

 

“How’s she?” Harry asked while dragging a towel around the inside of a mug.

 

“Hot,” Niall mumbled, Liam glaring.

 

“She’s good- and very engaged, so shut your cake hole. We had a Skype thing set up last night but y’know.”

 

“You ditched her.” Louis finished. Harry rat tailed him with his rag. 

 

“Prior engagements,” Liam explained. 

 

“Well, good to hear she’s good. And you, Liam- you’re good? You look a bit flushed.” Liam winced at the question but covered it with a cough. 

 

“I’m brilliant.”

 

“You sure, pal? You’ve been MIA like crazy.” Harry’s eyes were warm despite the chill in the air outside. Holiday’s were coming, which Liam dreaded. It’s not that he didn’t love his family; of course he did, to death. They just didn’t support him like he wished they would. Moving to New York with nothing but Louis and a few hundred dollars he saved from working at Nando’s wasn’t their ideal son’s choices. Neither was being gay, but. Tough luck. 

 

“Positive,” Liam configured his lips into a smile. 

 

“Well we’ve better be off if we want to make it to Willie’s by eleven.” Louis danced to his feet, spinning into his jacket and shaking out his bedhead. 

 

“Eleven? The match isn’t on until one!” Niall said. The look on his face proved that either that was the most comfortable seat he ever did sit on, or he was too hungover to start running around on trains with Louis. 

 

“Trains have been delayed all morning.” Harry answered, offering a sad smile.

 

“Oh no Niall,” Liam laughed. Niall and Louis somehow made it out the door within the minute, only managing to leave behind their house keys and a weird hat Niall found at some golf store. 

 

“Poor streets of New York,” Harry stated. “The animals are loose.” 

 

Liam stayed and chatted with Harry until his shift was over at three, and they never seemed to run out of things to talk about. That’s how Harry was, Liam discovered over time. You could sit and talk to the guy for hours on end, and walkaway a completely different person you were when you sat down. Harry had a heart that could change the world if he let it; but he loved his coffee shop job. And he loved his comfy slipper shoes. And he loved his Louis.

 

“I have to make my way over to join the boys at Willie’s if you wanna come,” Harry asked, and the recently familiar look flashed over Liam’s face. “But don’t worry. I’ll text you all that you miss- like aggressive eating and a bunch of words I don’t understand.” 

 

They laughed their way out the door. The skies were a mixture between blue and grey; like a bruise surfacing the next day after a bar fight (he’d been around Niall enough to know.) Soft air brushed across their cheeks, and the constant honking ceased for a minute as they stood outside their coffee house, pale faced and peaceful. It was cold, and Harry put a scarf Louis tried to knit him years ago around his shoulders. And they just looked at each other. And Liam smiled.

 

-

 

On Liam’s first day in the city, Louis took him apartment hunting so they didn’t have to crash in a hotel for too long and run up a bill. After he made an appointment with a realtor, Liam was laying on his stomach on the crisply folded bed with his feet crossed. He was flipping through the last pages of his yearbook, skimming over all the pages his teachers wrote to him and reading each one. Louis chucked a bag at his head, telling him to put it on no questions asked. When he zipped open the duffel, the pieces of Harry’s prom suit fell out, and Liam’s brow furrowed. 

 

“Why do I-“

 

“Do it and shut up Payno,” Louis faced the mirror, struggling to figure out his tie. Harry did it for him last time. 

 

Liam put on the suit, which had no tie, so the top buttons remained open and exposed his chest and collarbones. It was a look only Harry could pull off, so Liam ended up looking like an early Fabio and pouted. They met up with the realtor at the first house, and Liam understood everything.

 

“5600 a month, nonnegotiable. 3,000 square feet and all new modern appliances. Upstairs is the-“

 

“You’re an absolute doll, thank you love. We’ll have a look around and let you know if we’re interested,” Louis stepped away from Liam and leaned towards the woman. “5600 is a bit low for our taste, but you know the economy.”

 

Louis fake laughed like the obnoxious twit he was and dragged Liam around the townhouse like a married couple, stating out obvious blemishes as if he could afford to fix them; as if he could afford the place at all. Suddenly he raced upstairs, tugging Liam into the master bedroom, and began kicking off his shoes and pants. 

 

“Louis, _what the hell!”_ Liam whispered, furiously. 

 

“Hurry up!” He shot back, tearing off the shirt and jacket soon after. 

 

“With what?” Liam stomped. 

 

“You didn’t wear an outfit underneath a suit? _Dude.”_  

 

“Who does that!” Liam yelled, being hushed afterwards by a tip-toeing Louis. He scrambled his suit into a ball and carried it to the bedroom window, creaking it open and stepping out onto the balcony. 

 

“Louis!” Liam hissed, his heart thumping with anxiety. 

 

“Let’s go!” Louis yelled, clattering down the metal stairs towards the street. Was he making a fucking getaway? Liam looked around absolutely unsure of what to do, and started laughing. Like, bending over the side of the bed in tears, laughing. He heard the bedroom door open and the realtor storm in, pissed off and red-lipstick smudged. 

 

“What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?” She thundered. Liam’s eyes went wide, and he did the first thing that came to mind: out the window. To this day, he couldn’t remember if he jumped or fell or what; but he remembers Louis scooping him into his arms at the bottom and racing off down the sidewalk with an arm over his shoulders, their laughter echoing off the neighborhoods quiet quarters.

 

Zayn’s place was on that street, which meant it was just as gargantuan and expensive. 

 

“I’m here.” He texted Zayn when he stepped foot outside his door. His eyes wandered around, taking in the small details like the green welcome mat and angel statue next to the front porch steps. His phone buzzed.

 

“Door’s open.”

 

His trembling fingers wrapped around the knob and he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Zayn must’ve had the whitest tile floors Liam had ever stepped on, and the air smelt like a freshly baked apple pie; but the lights in the kitchen were off, and it wasn’t warm down here. On the left sat an average black leather couch, with a red crusted coffee table. There was no television, but there was a laptop, and an unfinished glass of brown liquor Liam thought to be whiskey next to it. On the right was a glimmering black staircase Liam envisioned Zayn walking down any minute, but he stood alone. 

 

“Zayn?” Liam called out to the vast living space, getting no reply until- buzz. 

 

“Upstairs. Second room on the left.” 

 

Liam rolled his eyes. What was this; some sort of game? Liam made his way up the spiral and stepped into a carpet clad hallway. All the doors were shut except the second one on the left. Shocker. He paced leisurely to the cracked door, and pressed it open with his fingertips. The first thing he notices when he steps in is that it’s pitch black and he hears the door close behind him. 

 

“Hello, Liam.” Zayn’s voice lures in his ear. His hands cup Zayn’s shoulders, moving up his neck and cradling his cheeks, beguilingly. Liam can’t see him yet, but he can feel him, and fuck that’s enough. 

 

“Zayn,” He breathes. “Why am I here?”

 

“Because you want to be,” Zayn purred, and Liam felt himself growing in his pants. He gulped. “That’s why you came.”

 

“You gave me no ultimatum.” 

 

“Would you have taken one?” Liam shook his head, regardless if Zayn could see or not- they both knew the answer to that one. Liam had thought about this, and god did he want it- but what he really wanted was Zayn. Sex or not. 

 

Liam didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until black faded to gold and he peeled his lids open, blinking. There were three dim lights that glowed above him, embracing the room in a shadow. Liam saw a bed now, but he couldn't make out much more before he felt Zayn’s hand slip into his and guide him to the mattress. Zayn had on nothing but a grey shirt and blue jeans and he positioned himself in the middle of the bed, gesturing Liam to join him. Liam crawled towards him and Zayn placed him between his legs, which were spread. Liam felt like a baby, clambering over Zayn’s tree trunk-like limbs and shifting closer to him. Because Liam has a longer torso, he towered over Zayn like the Chrysler building when Zayn placed his hands under Liam’s thighs, lifting him and craning up so their lips met. They found their rhythm and rocked together, tongues tangled up in hunger and desperation. Liam was almost bouncing, feeling Zayn’s caged hard-on brush against his each time he dipped, gentle noises escaping his mouth, helplessly. Zayn ran his hands up and down Liam’s body, his skin raw and sensitive and all Zayn’s, making his back arch. 

 

“So beautiful,” Zayn whispered somewhere between Liam’s tongue tracing his lips and his hands grasping onto his shirt for dear life. Liam dropped his head into Zayn’s neck to breathe, fucking himself back against his lap and mewling like a kitten. 

 

_“Please,”_ Liam cried, stopping his rocking to meet Zayn’s eyes as he lowered. 

 

“You sure you want this, love?” Zayn says. “Be sure.”

 

“Yes,” Liam moans. _“Zayn, please.”_

 

Zayn’s voice would tremble if he spoke again, because Liam is so _wrecked_ \- so used up, and he hasn’t even touched him yet. He keeps his wrists loose in case Liam wants to change his mind as he undoes Li’s pants, sending them onto the floor along with his briefs and both their shirts. Liam damns that pair of jeans for separating him from what he wants most, but _they’ll get there, they’ll get there._

 

His hands linger around for a few seconds, touching his thighs and feeling his keen hipbones push forward into his palms, feeling Li’s muscles twitch with need. He’s whining, and Zayn gives in, wrapping his hand around Liam’s swelling cock, his entire body writhing and trembling as his thumb moves over his slick head. He lets his hand move on its own as he aims his concentration towards Liam’s little pants against his ear and fingers digging almost painfully into the back of his neck. Zayn prods at his slit and Liam’s mouth falls open, eyes squeezing shut because there’s no way something real can feel so good. Zayn feels Liam’s dick quiver, figuring he could come soon, so he experiments. He drapes his other hand over the small of Liam’s back, pressing his ass against Zayn’s strained cock, and Liam gasps, whispering _“right there, Zayn, please, there.”_

 

Zayn smirks. Liam’s so breathless and so fucked out that he barely realizes the loss of Zayn’s hand around him until he feels them both around his waist. 

 

“Wanna try something,” Zayn says with Liam wiggling around between him. “I think you’ll like.”

 

Liam just rolls his head forward until it’s resting on Zayn’s shoulder, lips pressing into his skin, breathing softly. He hears a cap of a bottle open and close, then feels Zayn’s hands skim past his cock and his body jerks, whimpering, and Zayn’s finger rubs gently around his slick entrance. The untouched muscle contracts, wanting more, and Liam thrusts back against Zayn’s hand, but he pulls back. 

 

“Slowly, babe, wanna fuck you out nice and good for me,” Zayn coaxes, and Liam almost sobs when Zayn pushes further in, moaning and gripping his fingers into Zayn’s shoulders until the skin fades white. Zayn feels himself leaking in his jeans because Liam is so fucking hot, and he gently pumps his finger until he adds two, three, and fuck, Liam goes animalistic. He’s so warm and so fucking tight inside, he feels himself throbbing and groans, deep and long. Zayn stays clear of poor Liam’s prostate for now, knowing he wouldn't make it a second like this, and adds a few final strokes to his inner walls, tremors wracking Liam’s frame.

 

“Good?” Zayn pants. Liam whimpers louder than he has been, and Zayn locks his eyes on him as he bites his bottom lip. Zayn’s definitely going to come early if he doesn’t get to the point soon. He removes his fingers and Liam helps his pants disappear, finally, and gazes down at the mess Zayn made of himself because of him. Zayn scoots him so they’re skin to skin, foreheads bumping, noses dancing with each other as Liam’s breath comes in soft pants, sucking in when he feels Zayn’s touch.  

 

“I got you, love,” Zayn whispers, pressing himself against Liam’s overly sensitive hole, watching him shudder and let out the most beautiful broken noise he’s ever heard. _“I got you.”_

 

His voice catches, Liam’s back arching and his hips swiveling, and he’s inside Liam, and it feels better than anything he ever imagined. Zayn’s eyes squeeze shut for a second only to reopen and see this beautiful boy on top of him in some other world right now, innocently muttering Zayn’s name like it’s the only word he knows and Zayn knows, he’s there. He’s barely grazing Liam’s prostate but it’s enough, more than enough, and he feels him pulsing and squirming and working himself onto Zayn. 

 

“That’s it, baby,” Zayn groans, and Liam releases one final noise from the back of his throat, pulling a hole into Zayn’s sheets as he tenses, coming with his head buried into Zayn’s shoulder as he wraps an arm around Liam’s back, working him through it. He presses his tip right against Liam’s tender spot and Liam spills all over Zayn’s stomach with a cry, forehead glazed in sweat. That sends Zayn over the edge, coming against Li’s opening whimper after whimper. He swears it could be his first time too; he’s seeing stars, he’s seeing paradise, he’s seeing Liam. Small, fucked out, moaning Liam. 

 

When they return to each other, Liam is practically deadweight against Zayn’s body, but is conscious enough to help Zayn shuffle their way under the sheets, no telling who’s limbs are who’s. Zayn presses a kiss into Liam’s temple, and Liam’s eyes flutter at him briefly. 

 

“Zayn,” Liam says in a light voice, nudging Zayn’s chest with his head like a puppy. 

 

“M’yes, babe?” Zayn mumbles against his forehead, which tickles. 

 

“I think I’m going to stay in New York for another year.” 

 

“Get some rest.” Zayn’s breath pans over Liam’s forehead and he shivers. 

 

“I mean it, Zayn,” he whispers, but he can feel Zayn’s lips closing from a smile and he knows he’s too far gone to hear him.

 

Liam wants to tell him why. He wants to scream it from the tallest building in New York City with a bullhorn and a loud speaker. He wants to turn over right now and whisper it against Zayn’s lips and watch his nose scrunch up when he smiles. He wants to say it tomorrow morning while they eat cereal and he wants to say it on the train home that afternoon through his phone receiver. 

 

Before his lips even part, sleep takes over and brings him somewhere pretty- somewhere an hour ago. His dream brings him waves, and a view of sparkling water under the July sun; his chest warm with the feeling of absolute tranquility, before he hears Zayn say it back. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> if you agree that this sucked leave me a COMMENT and if you don't agree still leave me a COMMENT. thanks for reading!


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